


Strategic Decisions

by iniquiticity



Category: Veep
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 13:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6986200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iniquiticity/pseuds/iniquiticity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe post-orgasm Jonah is as loose with his tongue about the POTUS’ office as he is with it around Dan’s cock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strategic Decisions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rillrill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillrill/gifts).



> Did you know Liz is literally the worst fucking enabler in the universe? 
> 
> First Veep fic. Takes place during that scene when they're at the thrash metal band in s1e5. Shameless porn. Hi, guys.

Dan wonders how his life could get worse than this. 

The people on stage - _band_ is much too generous, and _music_ is _extremely_ much too generous - are wailing on their instruments in ways that would offend the factories that made them. Even sound, Dan thinks, might be too nice. Whatever the hell it is, it mixes well with the fact that everyone around him is stinking drunk and generally screaming along with it, including Jonah. Dan decides that he does way too much for his fucking job. This is not worth it. This is a shitty strategy.

Jonah has a beer in one hand, which, Dan notes, he is spilling more on himself than he is drinking. The POTUS would be proud. 

At least the show has given Dan a better opportunity to study his comically monstrous prey. Jonah isn’t any less tall out of his suit, but even removed from a black blazer his shoulders are broad and strong, and the unstarched fabric shows the impression of the curve of biceps if he moves the right way. It appears that Jonah is actually enjoying whatever is currently occurring on stage, likely due to the fact that he is closer to some primate relative of a human, rather than a true homo sapien. 

Jonah brings his beer to his mouth but there’s nothing in the cup, and Dan grimaces at the thought of fighting through the flailing elbows back to the bar and the dirty look the bartender gave him based on his obvious lack of enjoyment of this hell-on-earth. 

“Get me another fucking beer!” Jonah shouts over the crowd, the words slurred together, and slams a twenty into his hand. Dan sighs, and goes, because there’s no alternative. At least he’s learned the best way to be the least abused by Jonah’s collection of neanderthals. When he returns, Jonah takes his beer and pounds it back in one go. Dan catches the strong line of his throat as he does, watches his adam’s apple bounce as he swallows. 

Then Jonah looks down at him (as if there is any other way), and Dan feels one broad, clammy hand wrap completely around his wrist. 

“Come on!” Jonah says, and yanks him through the crowd. 

“Where are we going?” Dan shouts back, although at least they’re going away from the band and not closer. 

“Out of here,” Jonah replies, but somehow this doesn’t fill Dan with the incredible relief that he thinks he should feel. There’s a bad feeling mixing with the cheap beer in his stomach. 

Jonah drags them out of the smashed collection of humanity and into a narrow hallway in the back, which is scrawled completely with profane graffiti. Dan’s gut shifts, and he realizes with a bolt of horror what is about to happen, but is too late to stop it. Jonah lifts the hand that isn’t a shackle around his wrist - the beer cup apparently discarded somewhere along the way - and slams it, three times, against the locked bathroom door. 

“Shit in the hallway!” Jonah shouts at the door. By some magical, mystical power, Dan hears the bathroom door click open and at least manages to yank Jonah back before he barrels through the open door and smashes himself comically in the grimy space. A man and a woman glare at both of them as they exit, looking dishevelled. Dan thinks, at first, there might be a fight, but the couple is skinny and coked up and Jonah could probably take them both without his help. Wisely, they hurry away. Jonah pulls on his wrist again and drags Dan into the bathroom and locks the door. In a fit of drunk insight, he also pulls the garbage can overflowing with paper towels in front of it.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Dan says, and he takes in the disgusting bar bathroom, which is the platonic ideal of a disgusting bar bathroom. It smells like urine and sweat and shit, and the two of them fit, barely. There’s a small sink vanity, soaked, and a toilet, and every possible surface is either covered by some punk-rock sticker or a sharpie scrawl. 

“Don’t be such a fucking prude,” Jonah says, and his eyes sweep the bathroom again before he lets go of Dan’s hand to pull out about forty paper towels and dump them all on the sink vanity. He wipes them them across the wet surface once, then twice, then drops them on the floor. 

“Pick that up,” Dan replies, and Jonah huffs a laugh at him. Dan begins to kneel down to pick up the disastrous mess, but Jonah grabs his shoulder in his strong grip and yanks him up again. Then, he lifts Dan bodily onto the little vanity space next to the sink, causing him to yelp. Dan is not accustomed to being handled so easily, and while he might have been able to guess at Jonah’s strength, he now has evidence. 

“Hi, asshole,” Jonah says, and even sitting on the bathroom sink, towers over him. 

“Put me the fuck down,” Dan says. Jonah grins at him, his teeth white in his mouth. He puts his hands on Dan’s hips and nudges himself between Dan’s legs. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to suck your cock if you’re all the way down there?” Jonah asks, and Dan’s eyes go wide, and he pushes back on Jonah’s shoulders. Surprisingly, Jonah takes a step back. “Come on,” he wheedles, not breaking his hard eye contact with Dan. “I swear I’ll give you a really amazing blowjob. I’m not a pussy, I fucking swallow.” 

Those thoughts should not be as hot as they are. Dan’s cock twitches traitorously in his jeans, and he has the terrible mental image of Jonah bent over his lap, his hands in that stupid hair. 

Jonah steps forward again, this time his hands trapping Dan, and leans in. For a second, Dan thinks he’s going to be kissed by that disgusting mouth, broad and beery and looking too goddamn soft, but Jonah’s teeth instead scrape the line of his neck and it’s a jolt in the bottom of his stomach. Fuck his animalistic brain, and sex instincts, and Jonah’s mouth, which is trailing wetly across his skin and is just as soft as it appears.

“Fucking please,” Jonah whines into his ear, and bites the lobe more tenderly than Dan thought he was capable of. Dan lets his head fall back against the bathroom wall. Jonah’s tongue is in his ear and he curses his piece of shit body and the moan that builds in him, that he squashes down.

“Fine,” he says, and his hands drop from Jonah’s shoulders. Jonah laughs against his ear, air and wet flesh, and Dan shivers. 

“You’re going to fucking love this,” Jonah promises, and Dan can’t stop the unexpected groan as one of Jonah’s broad hands squeezes him through his jeans, just rough enough that he needs more of it. The other hand, in a fit of drunken, lustful grace, is working on the button of his fly.

“You better not give me a fucking hickey,” Dan says, as Jonah sucks at his neck. Jonah lifts his head, and his mouth is slick, shiny with spit, and his lips are a little red. An unexpected bolt of lust twists in him, which Dan attributes to drinking too much. 

“Do I look like a fucking teenager to you?” Jonah asks, half-offended, but then Dan pulls him close and kisses him because he needs to know more about those lips, as an intellectual exercise. Jonah goes along with it. 

“Maybe if your mom fucked Andre the Giant,” Dan snaps back, ignoring how hard he’s breathing after Jonah takes his tongue out of his mouth. Dan can now attest that those lips are every bit as fucking soft as they look, and that Jonah Ryan is a surprisingly good kisser, eager and hot and controlling in a way Dan didn’t know he was into. 

“Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get fucked by Andre the Giant,” Jonah replies. He smirks, sloppy, “That’s my cock, by the way.” 

Dan rolls his eyes, but Jonah isn’t watching, and is now instead putting his full mental facilities, never impressive at best and now dulled by alcohol, to the task of getting Dan’s pants open. Dan’s mostly hard now, and he squirms against the attention, and then groans as Jonah manages to get his jeans open, pushing them down his hips a little. Jonah's hand - also too completely fucking soft for it’s size - pulls him from his boxers, which is a terrible, wonderful relief. Dan curses his own body and lust and sex drives and everything else that has caused him to have his cock exposed for Jonah fucking Ryan in a disgusting bar bathroom. 

Someone knocks on the door. Jonah looks over. 

“Piss in the hallway!” he shouts, his hand not moving away from Dan’s cock. He strokes Dan once, twice, and Dan lets his eyes fall shut and his head clunk softly against the bathroom wall. Dan considers, for more than a few seconds, giving up and enjoying this treatment. However, included in that package is letting Jonah know he’s won, and that’s completely unacceptable. 

“Your cock isn’t too bad,” Jonah adds as he strokes Dan to full hardness, and Dan is staring at the ceiling because if he looks it’ll all be fucking over and he’ll have to admit that Jonah’s good at this and it’s against his personal moral code to ever say anything good about Jonah, and especially to Jonah. 

“Fuck you,” Dan says, instead. 

“You?” Jonah meets his eyes. “Lil Dan Egan, fuck me?” 

“Suck my fucking cock,” Dan snaps, and Jonah leans in and gives him a sharp bite, hot and like a warning, and Dan likes it too fucking much. But then Jonah bends his head properly in Dan’s lap and takes him in all at once. 

Those lips? Nothing in comparison to the steaming jungle of Jonah’s mouth wrapped around him like this. Jonah wasn’t lying when he said he could give a good blowjob. Jonah knows just what to do, somehow, knows exactly how to slide his mouth up and down, how to twist his tongue around the length of his cock, knows how to breathe out of his nose. Jonah’s hands find his hips again, his pale fingers pressed to his hipbones. Jonah sucks his cock furiously, and one of Dan’s hands finds itself threaded through the stupid haircut, which is also irritatingly soft. Dan thinks about Jonah buying fancy-ass shampoos and spending hours in front of his mirror making sure he looks good, even though it’s a fucking shame he can’t do anything about being so fucking tall and also having such a punchable face. Jonah does something with his tongue against the head of Dan’s cock and Dan thinks about nothing after that, just groans and gives in and watches. It’s a really good fucking sight, his length disappearing and reappearing from Jonah’s mouth, which is messy and wet and shiny now. He gives Jonah’s hair a little tug, and Jonah groans, and the sound vibrates all the way to Dan’s fucking soul. 

“You think that’s something?” Jonah says to his stomach, breathing hard as he lets Dan slide out of his mouth. “Fuck you, I’m twice as good.” And then he swallows Dan back down again, and Dan feels the press of Jonah’s fucking throat around him, inhumanely tight and too fucking good. It’s a well-known fact Jonah is a metaphorical cocksucker; he didn’t know that Jonah was such a goddamn literal one too. 

Dan moans and Jonah smirks around him. Jonah adopts a furious pace, working him unrelentingly, and Dan forgets everything. Forgets about the clean jobs bill, and the music, and the grimy bathroom. Forgets everything but Jonah Ryan sucking his cock like a fucking champion, choking himself with it and dragging Dan closer and closer to a very serious orgasm. Dan can feel it, knows the sense of his balls tightening and the increasing heat in his stomach and the wild shocks of pleasure that makes his toes curl in his sneakers. 

“It’s really OK if I come in your mouth?” he asks in a pant. Jonah flashes him _OK_ with his fingers, and then goes back to furiously jacking himself off while he’s taking Dan as deep as he can, which Dan’s just realized is a thing that’s happening. Dan also notices that Jonah’s bragging about the size of his cock is not entirely without factual backup, though a very small part of him acknowledges that it makes perfect proportional sense that Jonah’s cock is as awkwardly big as the rest of him. “Fuck, you’re really into this,” he adds, and Jonah nods around him, breaking neither the rhythm of his mouth or his hand. 

Dan pulls Jonah’s hair a little, again, and Jonah moans around him, which feels better than anything ought to ever feel. He pushes Jonah’s mouth down, disturbing his pace, but Jonah doesn’t seem to mind or resist. He’s uncharacteristically obedient to Dan’s hand in his hair, and Dan has to pretend he doesn’t like it as much as he knows he does, because otherwise he’ll want this again and that’s a disaster in the making. 

Or. 

Maybe it’s an opportunity. Maybe post-orgasm Jonah will tell him about the stupid clean jobs bill and what it looks like with the POTUS. Maybe post-orgasm Jonah is as loose with his tongue about the POTUS’ office as he is with it around Dan’s cock. Maybe this is just a work opportunity to learn more information. _Yes,_ Dan thinks to himself. _That’s it._ He definitely needs to keep doing this to get information out of Jonah. Orgasms are a key to this. That sounds perfect in Dan’s head as Jonah drives him relentlessly to the edge, and then over. Dan comes with a gasp, and Jonah doesn’t flinch or pull away or stop, just milks every fucking drop out of him until it’s too much and Dan’s pulling him away by his hair. Jonah goes with it, and his eyes still focused on Dan’s cock as it slips from his mouth, slick and soft and smaller now. Dan should feel embarrassed under the attention, only Jonah’s eyes are wild with desire, and his pace on himself is a blur, and he comes into his hand and across the front of the bathroom vanity, everything falling out of rhythm. Jonah’s gasping for breath, his mouth red and desperate, and Dan can only look at it and remember how good it was around his cock. 

“Fuck,” Jonah says, a little shudder racing through him. He’s putting most of his weight on his hands, which are again trapping Dan in his little space on the vanity. “Fucking fuck.” 

“Hope POTUS gets you to write his speeches,” Dan says, breathlessly. 

“Fuck you,” Jonah says, but it’s without venom. Dan slides himself off the vanity, and they both ignore that his legs are weak and Jonah stabilizes him. Dan checks to make sure he can stand, and Jonah pulls away. Dan watches him as he wipes his come off the front of the bathroom vanity and throws the paper towel on the floor along with the rest of his mess. 

“I thought gorillas cleaned up after themselves,” Dan says. 

Jonah tucks himself back into his jeans and moves the garbage can away from the door. “Watch less fucking National Geographic, nerd,” he retorts, “And put your sad cock away.” 

Dan tucks himself back in, hissing a little at how sensitive he is. He turns and checks his face in the scratched mirror. Jonah looks much more sex-harried than he does, the man’s hair a wild mess, and his mouth looking so red that Dan wants it back on him. 

“You didn’t seem too sad when you were choking yourself on it,” Dan says. Jonah unclicks the door lock and they’re met with a wall of cacophonous wails. Whoever was banging in the door has apparently found somewhere else to take a piss. Dan realizes he’s probably standing in it, but he’s still feeling too post-orgasm good to care. 

Jonah wraps his hand around Dan’s wrist and pulls him through the venue, past the band, and into the street. Dan looks up at him, puzzled.

“I thought you and Andre the Giant could get to know each other,” Jonah says. Dan opens his mouth to reject, but then remembers his plan, and the clean jobs bill, and pretends there is no buzz of pleasure down his spine at the thought. 

“Elephantiasis is a disease, and I’m going to donate for a cure just for you,” Dan retorts, as Jonah holds his hand up for a cab. 

“How sweet of you,” Jonah says, in his most perfect confident asshole voice, “Now get in the cab so I can show you how to make the best of my suffering.” 

Dan pretends that he is not looking forward to it. What he needs is more information about that bill. It’s just that he’ll take desperate measures to learn.


End file.
